


The Scavenger

by ScreechTheMighty



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Contains spoilers for the end of The Mandalorian s2, Din Djarin Continues To Dad, Gen, Mandadlorian to the max, Not Canon Compliant - Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Post Mandalorian s2, Protective!Din, combining canon and legacy EU, generous use of headcanons, generous use of the Mandalorian language, no beta reader we die like men, tags to be updated as fic progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28177050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreechTheMighty/pseuds/ScreechTheMighty
Summary: Din Djarin ends up with more than he bargained for when a job takes him to a certain desert junkyard. (AKA what if Rey had nice things in her life for a change, and what if those nice things came with a cool spear and a gremlin little brother. Ignores TRoS, spoilers for the end of The Mandalorian: Season Two.)
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda
Comments: 114
Kudos: 363





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this as taking place quite a while after the most recent season of The Mandalorian, under the assumption that at some point Grogu a) finishes his training, b) goes back to his dad, and c) starts speaking. There will be references to Plot Bunnies/Headcanons I came up with while contemplating both this AU and a variation of it, but don't worry, I'll try to explain everything in-fic. If it's not a plot bunny of mine, it's a Legacy EU detail because I'm That Person.

He was getting too old for bad days like this.

"Well." Din sighed heavily as he scanned the horizon. "Looks like we're a few hours out from sunset, but I don't know if we'll be able to find a settlement before then. You feel one out there?”

Grogu adjusted his position on Din's shoulder, letting out a prolonged _pffbbtt_ as he searched. "Hmmm, no," Grogu said after some thought. "No."

Of course not. Things couldn’t be _easy_ for once. "All right, I vote we settle in and wait until tomorrow. I don’t want to haul across this much sand after dark." Not to mention the ship. There was two of them, and Grogu was more than capable of watching the Crest II while Din went to get help, but there was no way they were doing that after dark. "I’ll see what I can do about repairs without replacement parts."

Grogu perked up. “Dinner?"

"Yeah, that, too." Din shook his head fondly. The kid was a damn garbage compactor. He still wasn't sure where it all _went_ , with how small Grogu still was. "C'mon."

His attempt at repairs ended up confirming what he already knew; the Crest II needed replacement parts and they were going nowhere fast without them. It kept his hands busy for a while, so it wasn't a total loss, but it did leave Din cursing this planet, his latest bounty, and their bad luck. The carbonite freezer was holding up, at least, so Din wouldn't have to deal with the target any more than he had to. "Pain in my ass," he muttered as he slid the hold shut.

Grogu, who had up until then been silently watching to make sure the food reheaters didn't explode, crowed noisily at the comment. "Bad words!" he said, less accusatory and more triumphant.

"You didn't hear that," Din replied immediately.

"Did so!"

"No, you didn't, you little womp rat." The words had absolutely no bite to them and Grogu knew it. He giggled loudly, _far_ too pleased with himself at having caught his _buir_ swearing. It was practically a game to him at this point. "C'mon, let's eat. I don't want you starving to death."

There was still a strange, nauseating thrill in taking off the helmet—even with the cultural implications long having been settled, even in the privacy of the Crest II's cockpit, even when the only person to see it was Grogu, who was so used to the sight that he no longer stared in open awe and curiosity when the bucket came off. It made sense, Din supposed; he'd only been taking it off for a fraction of his life, and even then so rarely that he still had close acquaintances who didn't know what he looked like.

Din preferred it that way—still did, always would—but he couldn't deny that he'd come to enjoy the moments when it _was_ off.

"We might want to sleep in shifts," he said between bites of food. "I don't want anyone running off with parts of the ship. We've lost enough as it is."

Grogu's eyes widened. "Jawas?" he said warily.

"No, I don't think so." He _hoped_ not, at least. Last thing he wanted on his plate on top of unruly scavengers and a broken ship was shabla _Jawas_ again. "But nothing we’ll want to deal with. Those magic powers of yours work while you’re sleeping?”

“Force.”

“That’s what I said.”

Grogu stuck out his tongue at him. “Yeah,” he said. “Mostly.”

“Good, then we’ve got nothing to worry about.” Din grinned reached over to pat Grogu’s head. “Nothing _extra_ to worry about.”

_Hope I didn’t jinx it._

He settled down in the pilot’s seat for the night, helmet back on, letting Grogu take first watch. He expected the kid to stay in his own chair, his usual spot, but as he settled down, he felt Grogu climb up into the pilot’s chair with him. Din smiled under his helmet. “Wake me up if you hear anything,” he said.

“Okay. Good night.”

“’Night, kid.”

It felt right. Grogu had been back for a while, but Din still remembered the days when he’d been gone. Necessary days, but still painful ones. _This_ was better. They may have been stuck in the middle of nowhere with a bail jumper frozen in the hold and a damaged ship, but at least they were together.

 _Clan of two_ , was his last thought before he drifted off.

He was awoken from a dead sleep by two tiny hands shaking his helmet. He felt the thought drift through his mind before he could ask what was wrong. _outside._

Din sat up slowly, trying not to make too much noise. _Who?_ he thought back. Of all the tricks Grogu had learned while he was away, this one still took some getting used to. It was _useful_ , once he got past having thoughts in his head that weren’t his, but… _strange._ He was used to it enough that the image of a small figure crouched outside the ship, trying to pry something loose, didn’t immediately unnerve him. But as he absorbed what Grogu was trying to show him…

 _A kid? You’re sure?_ He could see Grogu nodding, feel his kid’s certainty drift through his mind. That made things easier…and more concerning. _Okay, we’ll take this easy, then. See what’s going on._

Grogu hummed quietly in agreement.

They moved slowly through the ship, both to keep their approach quiet and to let Grogu keep up. Opening the hatch made enough noise that he expected the scavenger to run for it, but as they circled around the ship, he could still hear the sound of someone trying to pry something off the ship. He hoped that Grogu was wrong, somehow, that the being crouched beside the ship and tugging desperately _was_ actually just short, but…

“Don’t think you should do that,” Din said carefully.

…when the figure scrambled back, he saw _immediately_ that she was a kid. A little human kid grasping a ship part that looked _pretty_ important. “Just put it down and we…”

The kid took off. Din cursed quietly and took off after her. Fortunately, she didn’t get very far; that Jedi training made Grogu pretty good at moving things with his mind, and that included people’s shoes while they were still wearing them. The kid hit the ground and didn’t have enough time to recover before Din grabbed her arm. “Just give me the part… _hey…!_ ”

The girl strained against his grip, clutching the part close to her chest, a terrified shriek tearing past her lips. Great; not only did he feel like a _monster_ , every predator in the area might come running. Din had to physically pick her up and cover her mouth to make her stop, though all the trashing she was doing made _that_ a challenge, too. Fists and feet repeatedly bounced off his armor, sometimes hitting a space between plates but never hard enough to hurt. “ _Kid…!_ ”

And then she bit him.

Or she tried to—his gloves were pretty thick, so he didn’t really feel it. He had to admire the gutsiness of it, though. “I’m _not gonna hurt you_ ,” Din said. “I promise I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The kid went limp in his arms. She was trembling. Now he felt _worse._ “I just need the part back,” Din said. He was trying for soothing, but he was pretty sure the fact that he was a strange adult in armor who’d grabbed her in a full-body hug was negating the effect. “Give it back and I’ll let you go. No hard feelings.”

There was a pause. Just when he was about to try again in Huttese, he heard the part hit the sand. Grogu scrambled over to grab the part. “Okay.” Din put the kid down carefully. “We’re okay. Like I said. No hard feelings.”

The kid scrambled back, but didn’t run away. She stared at him with wide eyes. She’d already started crying, the tears cutting rivers through the sand on her face. Din gritted his teeth against the surge of guilt. Kid or not, he did _not_ need his ship more damaged than it already was. “It’s…your ship?” she asked shakily.

“It is.”

“Oh.” She took another hesitant step back, looking ready to run but also like she was scared he’d shoot her in the back if he did. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Din crouched down. “What are you doing out here?”

The kid didn’t reply. Din heard a few shuffling steps from his left and felt Grogu’s hand on his wrist. _she's hungry_ , whispered a voice in his head. _desperate._

Hungry and desperate. Probably saw an intact ship and thought it’d be her next meal. Din sighed softly. “You want some food?” he asked.

The kid hesitated, her eyes narrowing at the offer. Smart girl, smart enough to question the motives of strange adults. “…how much?” she asked.

Nothing free on Jakku, then. Fair enough. “You help me put that part back and we’ll call it even.” They had plenty of food, so it was a fair trade as far as he was concerned. “Deal?”

He could see her weighing her options, debating if the guaranteed meal was worth the potential risk. Eventually, as it usually did with kids, her empty stomach won out. “Okay,” she whispered. “Deal.”

It wasn’t until she approached him that she finally noticed Grogu. She froze, her eyes widening at the sight. He half expected her to run away screaming—kids either loved him or were terrified of him, no real middle ground—but when Grogu waved at her, she waved back hesitantly. Thought he even saw a smile for a second.

Din got a better look at her once she was on the ship. Her size made determining her age hard; she could’ve been very young or just chronically undernourished. Dark brown hair, brown eyes, fair skin, lot of freckles, the nose peeling from sunburn. Her hair had been pulled back into three buns; from how messy they were, he could only assume she’d done them herself. Her face was too thin, her eyes too hungry. “What’s your name, kid?” Din asked as he started going through their food. He didn’t want to give her anything too rich; if she really hadn’t eaten in a while, she could make herself sick.

“Rey.” She stayed near the hatch, arms crossed, eyes scanning the space carefully. “Are you a bounty hunter?”

“I am. I ran into some trouble getting my target. Ship’s grounded for now. Do you know any settlements nearby? Anywhere we could get parts or repairs?”

Rey nodded. “Niima Outpost. It’s not far. Unkar Plutt has parts. He’s in charge.”

“He a hutt?”

“No. I don’t know where he’s from, but…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “…some of the other scavengers call him the Blobfish.” 

Din bit his lip, trying to stifle a laugh. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, he doesn’t like it. Is _he_ a bounty hunter?” Rey added, pointing to Grogu.

Grogu spoke before Din could: “Dunno.” He set the part down and walked over to her, carefully grabbing her hand. “Sit. It’s safe.”

Rey looked doubtful, but she did sit down next to him. The dubious, worried look on her face was wiped away the second Din came over with food. “Eat it _slowly_ ,” he said. “You don’t want to throw up.”

She did eat slowly, but hunched over, protecting the food with her body like she was worried someone was going to try and take it from her. It wasn’t anything Din hadn’t seen before. A lot of Foundlings were protective of their food. The ones who’d spent a lot of time alone in war zones with no idea where their next meal was coming were the worst. Still broke his heart to see it. “Are your parents scavengers?” Din asked. “Do they work for Unkar Plutt?”

Rey froze for a second. “…no,” she said. “They left me with him. But they’re coming back. They _are._ ”

She said that with the forced conviction of someone who’d been told, a thousand times, that her parents weren’t coming back. The same conviction he’d felt once, even when his had died in front of him. From the way Grogu’s ears drooped, he remembered that feeling, too.

“What about you?” Din asked, trying to push ahead. “Do you work for him?” Rey nodded. It made sense; definitely explained why she was trying to dismantle his ship. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Ten.” She stopped long enough to lick her plate before she kept talking. “Do all bounty hunters wear that helmet?”

“Some of us do. We’re called Mandalorians. Why, have you seen one?”

“One time. Unkar hired him, but he said he wouldn’t do it again.” Rey held out the dishes to him. “Mandalorians cost too much.”

 _So he’s a cheapskate **and** he makes little kids work for him. Charming. _“Well, we’re good at what we do.” Din took back the plate carefully. She really had licked it clean. He’d offer her more, but considering how she’d reacted _last_ time he asked, she probably wasn’t one for charity. Fortunately, there was an easy solution to that problem. “How do you feel about another deal? Couple more meal packs in exchange for you getting me an audience with Unkar Plutt.”

Rey’s eyes widened. “Whole portions?”

“…yeah, whole portions.” What else had she been expecting? “Whatever ones you want.”

She didn’t have to think very long this time. “Okay. Do you want me to help repair the ship now?”

“No, tomorrow is fine. Do you have someplace to stay?”

The wariness crept back into her eyes. “Yeah. I’ll get back okay.”

Probably didn’t want him knowing where she lived. Smart call, but not one that made him feel better about her wandering around after dark. “You sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ll come back here.”

Din thought about arguing, but changed his mind. She had a stubborn set to her jaw, and pushing the matter might scare her off. “Okay. Hey.” Din got up, grabbed another meal pack, and held it out to her. “Down payment for tomorrow.”

Rey hesitated, then grabbed it, clutching it close to her chest, and made a run for the hatch. Din let her go, moving into the doorway to watch her leave until she was out of sight. Grogu watched too, probably able to sense her going long after she’d left their lines of sight. “...not leaving her,” he said finally. “Right?”

Din sighed heavily. “Not sure how she’d feel about that one.” When he glanced down, Grogu was staring up at him, eyes narrowed skeptically. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“ _Ba’vodu_ ,” Grogu said, tone almost scolding, before shuffling back into the ship. He didn’t have to say anything else; Din knew exactly what he meant.

He had a reputation for a few things on Mandalore: being one of the few remaining adherents to the Watch (albeit a more loose interpretation of their Creed), shortest bearer of the Darksaber without being killed for it ( _twice_ ), and for bringing on a _lot_ of Foundlings. It was an exaggeration to say that _every time_ he came back to Mandalore after a job he had a kid or two in tow, but the joke that it was stranger for him to come back _without_ one wasn’t entirely unfounded. They had other families now, other clans that had taken them in, but they all still remembered him. _Ba’vodu,_ they called him. Uncle.

And Grogu knew about that protective streak better than most.

Din sighed and shut the hatch. “My turn for watch,” he said. “You sleep.”

Just as well. He had a lot to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations Not Made In The Text:  
> > Buir - Father  
> > Shabla - your standard sci-fi "we can't say swears so here's a made up one that's DEFINITELY not the f-word" word
> 
> Also the reference to Din being Mand'alor twice is related to something I came up with that...accidentally got some canon backing, lmao, but was different enough in s2 that I decided to just include my idea and the canon. This should get explained in the text of the fic.


	2. Chapter 2

“You sure you’ll be okay?”

Grogu sighed loudly. That noise combined with the irritated look on his face said a lot, but Grogu emphasized it with a hand on Din’s wrist and a projected reminder of the fact that he could, and had, moved the Crest II with his brain. “Fair enough,” Din relented. “I shouldn’t be too long. Assuming they have the right parts, or something close enough to get us back home.” It was _never_ that simple, but he could hope, right? Just once, maybe he’d have a decent time on a desert planet? “And if anything worse than some scavengers shows up…”

 _i'll call,_ Grogu thought. _you **worry** a lot._

“Someone has to. Unless that _jetii’alor_ of yours taught you how to be bulletproof, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t.”

Din expected his kid to argue the point. Instead he straightened up, ears twitching. _she's outside._

 _Good, she’s okay._ Din grabbed his helmet. “Well, time to see what the locals are like.”

Grogu held out his arms. Din picked him up without hesitation, letting the kid hug him tightly. “Good stars,” Grogu whispered.

“You, too, kid.”

He had to be careful with Rey. Contrary to what some people thought, Mandalorians didn’t run around taking war orphans (or any kind of orphan) off the street; outside of immediately removing them from an emergency (like _actual live combat_ ), you usually made sure there was no one else they might want to go back to. Rey was clearly convinced she had living family out there somewhere, and besides that, they hadn’t gotten off on the _best_ foot. He had to be ready for the possibility that she’d turn him down. He _had_ to respect the decision.

Seeing her standing outside the ship, wearing goggles that were too big for her and dragging little sled of scrap behind her, _really_ made that difficult.

“Where’s the other one?” she asked.

“Grogu’s going to watch the ship, just in case.”

“That’s smart.” Rey looked at the Crest II with the critical eyes of someone who could probably strip the ship down to nothing. “I bet you could get a lot of portions for her.”

“Probably.” Din glanced at her sled. “You need help with that?”

“No, I’ve got it.”

That wasn’t bravado; she did a pretty good job dragging it herself, though Din could see her start to tire as the walk went on and the sun kept rising higher. He thought about offering again, but she glared at him if he veered too close to it, so he kept the offer to himself. He _did_ at least convince her to take some of his water without it turning into a haggling session. “Who’d you grab?” she asked once when they stopped for a break. “You’re a bounty hunter, right? Who were you looking for?”

“I can’t tell you. Guild rules. You probably didn’t know him, though. He’s not a scavenger. He just thought he could hide here.”

“Oh.” Rey stopped to adjust her grip on the sled’s straps and kept walking. “Did he have a ship?”

“It’s probably not in the best shape, but yeah. Why, you want it?”

“If no one else got to it first.”

“I don’t know if anyone has, but you can check if you want.” _He_ sure didn’t want it. None of the parts matched the Crest and besides that, he’d put a few holes in it while apprehending the target. It was pretty much useless all around to anyone but her. “So, how does this work? You bring Plutt the parts, he pays you?”

“Uh-huh. In meal portions. Sometimes other things, but you have to bring in something really good if you want to haggle.”

 _I shouldn’t be hearing this_. Din wanted to get in and out of Niima Outpost without shooting anyone, but everything he found out about Plutt made the idea _very_ tempting. “And it’s…mostly Imperial ships, right? Star Destroyers?”

“Sometimes X-Wings and stuff, but yeah. I guess there was a fight here. The Empire lost.”

“Good riddance.” Din didn’t expect her to agree; she was too young to remember the Empire, and even if she wasn’t, it wouldn’t be any different to _her_. Empire, New Republic, she’d still be a ten year old slaving away for her next meal under the hot sun. _He_ , however, still got petty enjoyment out of their defeats. “No one ever came back for any of it?”

“I don’t think so. We’re too far away. No one cares about Jakku.” Din heard a clatter as something fell off her sled. “ _Dank farrik - !_ ”

Okay, kid had a mouth on her. Not that he could judge. “I’ve got it.” Din stopped to pick up the part. Rey froze, only relaxing when he set the part back and made sure it was secure. “You sure you don’t need help with that?”

“We’re almost there. It’s okay.”

Sure enough, the outpost came into view not too long after. Looked like Hutt architecture from a distance, but definitely run down. Maybe they’d run the local Hutt out of town. Almost the second they were within view of the other scavengers, Din felt eyes on him. Not unusual, especially among a crowd who probably had a pretty good idea of what the running price for beskar was.

He just hoped they _also_ understood the going price when you were dealing with a Mandalorian—broken fingers if you were lucky, your life if you weren’t. They’d lost enough of the metal to the Empire. Even Mandalorians who didn’t follow his Creed and interpreted the _resol’nare_ more liberally would fight to the death to protect their armor for that reason alone.

“Be careful. They don’t like new people,” Rey whispered. “Plutt’s this way.”

Din followed her through the outpost, past clusters of scavengers hunched over their hoards and to the central building. Immediately, he understood why Plutt was called _blobfish_. Crolutes had very distinctive faces. He was just surprised to see one out here. “I found a customer,” Rey said. Her voice had gone noticeably quieter, her eyes downcast. “And some parts.”

Plutt glanced Rey’s way before giving Din a long, slow once-over. “What brings a _Mandalorian_ to these parts?” he said.

“Guild business.” Din returned the once-over. Plutt didn’t look like he posed a physical threat, but he was _far_ too comfortable in this conversation. Most people got at least a little nervous when they were face to face with a Mandalorian. Could be bravado. Could be that he had muscle waiting in the wings. “I need replacement parts for a gunship. I was told you might be able to help.”

Plutt grunted and pushed a pad of flimsy and a pen across the counter. “Write down what you need. I’ll see what we have.”

Din stepped aside to write down the information. Rey took that opportunity to start piling her parts onto the counter. She had to stand on her toes to get them up there. Din noticed some of the other scavengers giving _her_ long looks, her and her haul.

 _Don’t even think about it._ Plutt might be off-limits, but the rest of them didn’t have that protection.

Din scribbled down the last part and passed the pad back. Plutt didn’t give it a second look, as he was staring down at the parts Rey had produced. There was a bit of hmm-ing and haw-ing, probably for show. “Three-quarter portion,” he intoned.

Rey didn’t try to argue. She just jumped up to grab the meager portion presented to her and got out of line. As Plutt finally looked at the list, Din counted backwards from ten in every language he knew to keep from slamming the bastard’s face into the counter. “Wait here,” Plutt said coldly before shuttering the window.

Din crouched down next to Rey. “That’s really all you’re getting?” he said, trying to sound casual and not murderous.

“This is pretty good. I thought I’d only get half.” She shoved the portion into her belt. “If I help you put everything back together, can I get more portions?”

“You know how to work with a ship like her?”

“I know how to listen. My hands are smaller than yours. I can get more places.”

Good point. “Sure. Sounds fair.”

The shutter was raised again, accompanied by the sound of parts clunking onto the counter. Three parts, when Din needed four. “You’re missing one,” Din said as he straightened up.

“We don’t have that part at the moment.”

“Do you have anything similar?”

“I have something that can get you off the _ground_. It won’t get you into the atmosphere without _exploding_.” _Of course not. Of **course** not._ “We have new parts coming in quickly these days. I can have my scavengers look for the part specially, but it will cost extra.”

The accumulated stress of every inconvenience he’d ever faced was going to kill him before a blaster did. Din was sure of it. “Fine. How much for these?”

“We don’t take New Republic credits…”

“Do I look like a man who deals in New Republic credits?”

“I can trade you for the spear.”

“Not an option.” Din pulled a few chips out of his belt—a few hundred credits leftovers from a recent Hutt job—and put them on the counter. “This currency should be good in this system.”

Plutt examined the chips. “You can have two for that,” he said, with the same pompous and final intonation he’d used on Rey.

Din could probably haggle it down. In _any_ other situation, he’d try. But he needed to do business with this man again if he wanted to get off this planet, so he reined in the impulse and produced another chip. “This is as high as I’m going,” he said.

Plutt weighed his options, seemed to _really_ notice the beskar spear beyond its monetary value, and took the chips. “Come back tomorrow. We’ll see about your fourth part.”

“Fine.” Din grabbed the parts and walked away. Rey fell in step with him almost immediately, moving much faster now that her sled wasn’t loaded down. Din waited until they were a safe distance away to talk to her. “He always that friendly, or is today my lucky day?”

“He’s usually meaner.”

“Great.” Nothing like being at the mercy of men with egos. “Don’t suppose you could find me that part?”

“If you show me where that guy’s ship is, I might,” Rey said without hesitation.

He probably should’ve been frustrated, but instead he was relieved. She wasn’t scared of him anymore, bad start or not. Exactly the direction he wanted. “Deal. We’ll go after we get the Crest set back up.” He’d already left his ship _and_ his kid alone for too long.

Fortunately, when they got back, Grogu was fine, as was the ship. By his report, he’d had to scare off a few scavengers. No one who stuck around after being pushed around a bit by a “ghost.” _worse than you thought?_ he asked mentally as Rey examined the damage to the ship.

 _That obvious?_ Din grimaced. He wasn’t sure he wanted to show Grogu the specifics, but there was no hiding his frustration. _No place for a kid. That’s for sure._

_definitely not leaving her?_

_Not if I can help it._ Din noticed that Rey had stopped examining the ship and started examining the horizon. “Something wrong?” he called.

Rey pointed. The sky off in the distance _did_ look hazier. “Might be a dust storm coming through. You should close her up and get inside.”

He didn’t take the time to curse his prolonged inconvenient luck. It’d be time wasted. Right now, he had to focus on those repairs.

Rey, fortunately, was a quick study, and wasn’t wrong about her smaller hands being an advantage. Between the three of them, they got the exterior repairs done before the storm came in. Rey kept watching the incoming clouds anxiously, glancing off the way she’d come the night before. “…you can stay with us if you don’t think you can make it back in time,” Din said carefully. “If you want. Think I owe you a meal, anyway.”

She looked at the storms, off into the distance, then down to Grogu. The kid cooed quietly; if he was doing some kind of Jedi mind magic to convince her, Din couldn’t tell. “Okay,” Rey said, just a bit too casually. “Sure.”

It hadn’t escaped Din’s notice that she’d pocketed a multitool, holding it within the folds of her clothes, probably ready to use it as an improvised weapon if she had to. He pretended not to notice. The chances of her actually being able to hurt either of them with that thing were low, and if it made her feel safer, it was worth the risk.

Besides, it was a gutsy move. He couldn’t help admiring that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some translations:  
> > jetii'alor - literally Jedi leader, I couldn't find anything for "master" or "teacher" so I went with the next closest thing.  
> > resol'nare - the Six Actions, or the basic tenants of Mandalorian culture. Those are going to be discussed a lot next chapter because I care about this subject deeply.
> 
> Not a translation per say, but the Mando'a word for "luck" literally translates to "good stars" or "a course to steer by" and I just thought Grogu using the first one as a way of wishing Din luck was cute. Also, can you tell I don't know anything about even fictional ships and just glossed over that aspect to avoid making stuff up and looking stupid? xD


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: a good chunk of this chapter is me rambling about my Mandalorian culture headcanons. Some of it inspired by meta written by tumblr user communistkenobi that I CANNOT for the life of me find right now because I deleted it from my drafts like a craven fool but once I do, I'll link it here. EDIT: [I found it.](https://communistkenobi.tumblr.com/post/637368665796493312/you-said-and-also-again-in-order-for-religious)

The sandstorm hit just as they settled down to eat.

It wasn't the first time Din had to wait one out on a ship. Navarro had its fair share, and it felt like _every damn time_ he went to Tatooine, the weather acted up. On the plus side, he doubted anyone would be crazy enough to mess with the ship in weather like this. It let him focus on other things, like the girl sitting across from him and protectively guarding her meal.

Had he been like that when his Covert had taken him in? Din couldn't remember. He didn't _think_ so; he didn't have the same preoccupation with food a lot of those kids carried into adulthood. Grogu didn't either, but the tradeoff with _him_ was that he ate damn near everything in sight. He was first done with his lunch, as always, though Din was slowed by the fact that he had to eat around the helmet. He liked Rey well enough, but they weren't quite there yet.

Mentally, Din was counting down the seconds until _the question_ came up. It always did; kids were naturally curious, and most _adults_ usually ended up asking about it. Rey had lasted longer than most, but he supposed seeing him not even take it off fully to eat was a legitimate breaking point.

"Do you not take it off ever?" she asked once her plate had been, again, licked clean.

"I do. Just not usually around other people."

"Because you're a bounty hunter?"

"No, because I'm a Mandalorian. It's a culture, not a job. We're not all bounty hunters, but a lot of us are." Din paused, trying to think of the simplest way to explain this to a child. It was never easy; even kids the same age could be at different levels of understanding. Different levels of what they knew (or thought they knew) about Mandalorians, too. "Every Mandalorian follows the _resol'nare,_ the six things most important to our people. Education, armor, language, self-defense, clan, and leader." The words were burned into his memory, the singsong rhyme in _Mando'a_ as much a part of him as his own name. " _How_ you follow them depends, but for my group, the Watch…" He gently tapped his helmet. "...wearing the armor means you don't take this off around other people. Sometimes not for the rest of your life."

"Why?"

There was a lot of history there he didn't know how to explain: how the Empire had stripped them of their homeland and _beskar'gam_ , left them living underground and hiding their names, their faces, even how many of them there were just to stay alive. How the Mandalorian Civil Wars had splintered them long before that. How the Watch had been born of uncertainty, of seeing their people reduced to either heretics or extremists, of watching the existential threat to Mandalore go from the risk of making their children _dar'manda_ to their children being _killed…_

But he had a hard enough time explaining that to other Mandalorians. So, he stuck to the simple, partial answer. "It's a promise. My way of showing that I'm dedicated to the Creed. No one can look at me and say I'm not a Mandalorian." Okay, that wasn't strictly true, but Mandalorians calling other Mandalorians fake was a national sport at this point. "That and no one can shoot me in the head by surprise," Din added. "Nice bonus when you're a bounty hunter."

Rey giggled at the comment and turned to Grogu. "Are _you_ Mandalorian?"

Fortunately, Din still had his helmet on all the way to mask his grimace. Another tricky one. Of _course_ he'd been raising Grogu in the _resol'nare_ since their reunion, and no one he knew questioned whether or not the kid was one of them. But as much as Grogu was culturally Mandalorian, he was culturally Jedi, and part of a species that, far as he could tell, had never integrated themselves into the Mandalorians. He may not even have been old enough to take the Creed (and thinking about how slowly Grogu aged, how he was going to outlive Din and everyone they both knew, was _not_ a train of thought he liked following). It made everything messy.

But that was Grogu's story to tell, so Din kept his mouth shut and waited for his son to answer.

Grogu gave it some thought, his nails clicking against the side of his bowl. "...my _buir_ is," he said finally. When Rey shot him a quizzical look, Grogu clarified by pointing at Din. “ _Buir._ Dad.”

Another benefit of the helmet: Din could break into a grin at any time without ruining the mood. _Buir._ He still wasn’t used to hearing it. He didn’t think it’d ever get old. He was so caught up in the moment that he almost missed the baffled look on Rey’s face. “…how…?” she asked skeptically.

“He’s a Foundling,” Din interjected, not even trying to keep the fondness out of his voice. “He’s a part of my clan by adoption. I was a Foundling once, too.”

“ _Oh_. Okay.”

Rey hesitated. Din could guess the question. “My parents died in a war. It was a long time ago.”

“Against the Empire?”

“Different war.” There was always a war somewhere. He didn’t remember many of the details personally. That period of his life was a blur, outside of the sharp stabs of fear and pain. “Mandalorians saved me, took me in. I’ve been one ever since.”

“Is that what happened to Grogu?”

“… _well_.”

Din glanced at Grogu. He was chewing on one claw, visibly trying to stifle a laugh. At least they could find it funny now. “He was…a target, actually. Real hardened criminal, this one.” That set Grogu off in giggles. “I took the job, but…”

“He saved me,” Grogu said immediately. “From the needles.”

It was kind of him to leave out the part where Din had handed him over at first. “The Guild must not have liked that,” Rey noted.

Din shrugged. “I settled it. Did them a favor, actually.” It was a difficult question to ask, but considering how the conversation 0had been going, it seemed fair to ask. “You said your parents left you with Plutt…what happened? Did he say why?”

Rey shook her head. “He’s never told me. I tried asking, but he just said I live here now.”

“You don’t remember why?”

“No.” She shrank a bit, wrapping her arms around herself. “I don’t…really remember that day.”

“That’s normal. I’m sure you were scared.” Din had a bad feeling about the whole situation. His gut said her parents, whoever they were, had either been in a lot of trouble or desperate enough to trade their child. Neither option looked good for getting her back to them. “Is there anywhere they might have gone?” _Anywhere on this dump that isn’t Niima Outpost?_ For all he knew, this was the only place on the whole planet.

“There’s a few other outposts, but I’ve never seen them. I’ve never left this part of Jakku.” There was a wistful note in her voice when she said that. “I want to, one day. When my parents come back. Maybe leave the whole planet.”

When. Not if. Not a hint of doubt in her mind. Din wasn’t even sure how he’d begin to broach the subject of them _not_ coming back. “Where would you go first?” he asked instead.

“I’ve heard Naboo is pretty. Have you been there?”

“No. Mid rim is too close to the core, and they don’t really like Mandalorians there. I’ve heard the same thing, though.” He was about to describe some of the places he _had_ been—even the most backwater of them had been nicer than Jakku, in his opinion—when he noticed Grogu straighten up, his ears twitching. “…we got company?”

“Yeah,” said Grogu quietly.

Someone must’ve been desperate enough to brave whatever of the storm was left. _Great._ _Just my luck_. “You two wait here.” Din grabbed his rifle and started for the door. “Stay quiet.”

The winds had died down, but the air was still full of reddish sand, making the landscape outside his door look like a broad stretch of _nothing_. If it hadn’t been for his HUD, he would’ve had a hard time seeing who was there. The figure’s clothing matched the color of the sand, and they’d frozen at the sight of him. A good move, usually, but not when your opponent had a helmet. “Ship’s taken,” Din called. “You should move on.”

The figure darted away into the haze. _That was easy, at least._ He took the time to examine the ship. The sand had buried the nose a bit, but he was sure Grogu could get them out, given no other options. No additional damage, either. All they needed was that fourth part. Which left them with half a day of nothing to do but wait.

He wasn’t sure why he was so antsy today _._ He was usually pretty good at waiting—you did a lot of it in his job. But today, it didn’t feel right. It felt too much like emergency drills when he was a kid, crammed into tight spaces with the other kids in the Covert, holding his breath, knowing it was just practice but not being able to stop thinking about the day when it _wasn’t…_

A tiny hand on his leg jarred him from the thought. Din sighed softly. “I said to wait on the ship,” he said, no real reprimand in his tone.

 _no one’s here,_ Grogu thought back. His eyes squinted against the sand and wind still blowing around them. Din picked him up and used his cape to shield the kid as best he could. _you okay?_

 _I’m fine,_ Din thought back. _Thinking._

“Storm should be over soon,” piped up Rey. Her voice was muffled by a scarf she’d wrapped around her face. The too-big goggles were coming in handy. “Hope that other ship didn’t get buried.”

Din hummed in agreement. The landscape was slowly starting to appear again, blue-grey sky peeking through the sand. “I should go soon,” Rey added. “Sometimes the storms unearth stuff and I want to get to it before everyone else does.”

 _Damn it._ He could’ve found some way to follow, but he wasn’t sure she’d be happy about that. He wasn’t sure he could leave Grogu again, either, and given the decision between the child that was only potentially his responsibility and the child who actually _was_ …

“You sure you’ll be okay on your own?” he asked, despite himself.

“…yeah, I’m okay.” She sounded taken aback at the question, as if she was unused to concern. “Storm’s going the opposite direction. Most people leave me alone if I leave them alone.”

It was the _most_ that worried him, but she’d made it this far on her own. He’d have to trust that. “I’ll get you that food I owe you,” Din said. “And if you find that engine part…”

She looked a little more hesitant now, but after some thought, said, “I’ll give it right to you if you don’t tell Plutt it was me. And I want double.”

He couldn’t tell if seeing a ten-year-old drive such a hard bargain was funny or depressing. “I can do that. Trust me, I don’t plan on talking to him more than I have to.”

He grabbed the portions and brought them outside. As she grabbed them, Din added, “And I’m gonna need my multitool back.”

Rey hesitated, her pale face going red at the realization he’d noticed. She passed it back to him without argument. “Thank you. And hey.” He pointed in the direction of the ship. “Straight that way, a few klicks. It’ll be hard to miss if it hasn’t been buried. Idiot ran off with the flashiest thing he could find. You should be able to make it there and back before nightfall.”

Rey perked up at that detail. “Thank you!” she called over her shoulder as she darted off. Din waved. Grogu did as well, then grabbed Din’s hand again.

_she'll be okay._

“You think so?”

_yeah. good feeling._

Well, at least he could safely say Grogu’s good feelings were rarely wrong. He just hoped she would stay okay long enough for them to get out of there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mandalorian not translated:  
> > Mando'a - the Mandalorian language  
> > beskar'gam - armor  
> > dar'manda - the state of not being Mandalorian due to loss of heritage, regarded as the loss of your identity and soul (especially by traditional-minded Mandalorians)
> 
> Also I don't remember if the helmets in the show have a HUD that would enhance Din's vision in any way but as long as I'm mashing up old EU canon with the actual canon, might as well.


	4. Chapter 4

He was woken up from a dead sleep by tiny clawed hands on his face and repeated, insistent noises. “I’m up, I’m up.” Despite this, Din barely moved, only tilting his head to look down at Grogu. “What? What is it?”

Grogu sent him a thought: a tiny figure sitting outside, sorting through what looked like a pile of trash. It took Din’s half-asleep brain a second to catch up. _Shit. Rey._ “What time is it?” he grumbled as he sat up fully, reaching blindly for his helmet.

“Dunno. Dark.”

It made sense when he thought about it logically—early starts meant less time in the direct sun of Jakku. But he wasn’t thinking logically; all he could think was that she had to be the _only_ early rising ten year old he’d ever met. The only thing that had dragged him out of bed before sunrise at her age was respect for his mentors, and even that sometimes wasn’t enough. “Hopefully she has good news for us,” Din said. “I know we’re not on a time crunch, but the client probably won’t be happy we took this long.”

“Not our problem,” Grogu said as he settled down onto his usual perch on Din’s shoulder.

Din laughed, the sound still a bit hoarse from sleep. Grogu had gotten that one from him. He couldn’t deny that. “True.”

Rey was in the process of polishing some part Din didn’t recognize when they joined her outside. “How far do you have to travel?” she asked without looking up.

“Not too far. Why?”

“You can try getting smaller parts to patch it together instead of finding the full part. It won’t hold up forever but it should get you where you’re going.” She pulled a few parts from her piles. "I'm just missing one. They're easier to find."

"And you know this how?"

"New Republic used that model of gunship for troop transport late in the war. I found the schematics. I can show you if you want."

Din took a second to process the information. It still felt like his brain was running on half-speed. The question of whether or not he still had instant kaf on the ship kept overriding all other thoughts. "Sure," he managed finally. "You want breakfast first?"

Of course, she didn't turn the offer down. Making and eating the meal gave his still sleep-addled mind time to catch up. What Rey was proposing was probably risky, but he'd arguably done more dangerous things with his ship. The first Razor Crest had been through all manner of questionable repairs, and it had taken a direct hit from an Imperial vessel to put her down for good. Din wasn't sure if that said more about his luck or the quality of the ship, but either way, it made him more willing to try.

That did still raise one problem: what to do about Rey.

He was in the middle of a job. He couldn't exactly drop everything to try and win this kid's full trust, not if he wanted to keep a professional reputation and with it his job. His Covert might have been less reliant on him to support the group, but he still had an obligation to them. That and he was under contract. There were few things more damaging or annoying to handle than a client accusing you of breaching contract.

But he didn't want to leave her here. He _couldn't._ This really was no place for a kid, and he trusted that stingy _chakaar_ Plutt as far as he could throw him.

 _There has to be some middle ground_. He was good at finding that, right? Arguably, it was the defining feature of his (admittedly short-lived) time as Mand’alor. If he could manage to make various bickering clans and sub-groups of Mandalorians get along for five seconds, he could find some way to make things work with Rey.

“You can probably get the last part from Plutt if we can’t find it,” Rey said. She seemed a little less protective of her food today. Maybe she had finally caught on that they didn’t want to take her food, or maybe he was just imagining it. Din wasn’t sure. “It should be cheaper, too. You can tell him you found the plans somewhere else. Do bounty hunters always kill people?”

Din was typically used to the way kids could rapidly change topics in the middle of a conversation. That morning, the kaf hadn’t quite hit yet, so it took him a second to catch up. “…no, I do alive. I do alive a lot, actually.” _Alive_ tended to pay better, even if it was a hassle. “Why?”

Rey stared at him intensely before turning away. “Just curious.”

 _Liar._ Din wondered if it had something to do with her parents. _Could be an in._ He made note of it as best he could with his brain still running on half power. “Looking for a career change?” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re a bit young, but give it a few years and you could probably find someone who’d start apprenticing you.”

“…how many years is a few years?”

“You’re ten, right? I started learning some parts of the trade when I was thirteen.” Nothing that took him on the job, not at first, but the basics. Tracking, how to chase down a lead, how to make and hold onto contacts. Worked his way up to accompanying an experienced _beroya_ on jobs, then operating independently once he was of age and took the Creed. He knew some Coverts started their kids younger, but his believed in making sure they had the basics of survival down before they went anywhere near a trade. “Though I already knew how to use a blaster by your age.”

“We’re not allowed to have blasters. If we find one, we have to give it to Plutt. Most of them don’t work anyway. Too much sand in them.”

Made sense. His workers probably outnumbered him and his hired muscle. If they had enough guns and enough of them banded together…

Then again, maybe someone had already tried that. Resistance was rarely as easy as it seemed in theory. Mandalorians had learned that one the hard way.

"We should go if you want to see those blueprints. It's been windy already today. Could mean another storm." Rey passed him off the dishes—again disturbingly clean—and scratched some sand out of her hair as she stood. "But it's not too far."

"How far is _not too far_?" He wasn't sure he wanted to leave Grogu again, but he also didn't want to come back to a stripped down ship. Been there, done that, got fried by Jawas and nearly killed by a Mudhorn. _Never doing that again._

"I just woke up not too long ago...so I don't know how far that is. But not too far."

Din thought about it, then glanced down at Grogu. "What do you think?" _Stay or go, your call._

Grogu thought about it, ears twitching slightly as he glanced at Rey. After that consideration was over, he held up his hands to Din. He didn't have to say anything; the message was clear. "Okay," Din said. "Let's go, then."

She wasn't exaggerating; it was a much shorter walk to her, for lack of a better word, home. Din wasn't sure what he was expecting, but the ruins of an AT-AT wasn't that. "You live here?"

"It’s nicer on the inside," Rey said immediately. She was able to scramble in no problem; Din, meanwhile, had to be careful not to hit his head. He was a bit impressed to see that she wasn't exaggerating about the inside. It wasn't... _ideal_ housing for a kid her age, but it was a lot homier than he'd expected from the exterior. Cobbled-together hammock in one corner with what looked like a home-made doll perched inside; makeshift shelves with an X-Wing pilot helmet and what was probably a native plant in what had once been a Empire-issue mug; various parts in various stages of repair. What surprised him the most was the makeshift computer setup near the hammock. "Where'd you find that?" he asked

"One of the old bombers. It's…" She pushed a few buttons on the computer, staring intently at the screen as she did. "...kind of annoying and it freezes up a lot, but I'm still working on it."

"Doesn't look too bad to me." Din knelt next to her, watching the computer slowly boot up. "Did you figure this out on your own, or…?"

"What's that?" Grogu asked.

Din had to turn to see what Grogu was pointing at. Along one wall near the door, just out of his line of sight, was a line of tally marks scratched into the wall. The implications hit him hard and suddenly; hearing Rey confirm it only made the shock worse. "I'm trying to keep track of days," she said. "That's not all of them. I missed a few because I was tired or sick."

 _That's not all of them._ There were already so many. And she said it so _casually_. Din wasn't sure what to say, and even less sure when he realized the pit of dread in his stomach wasn't entirely his. Grogu didn't often convey things like that accidentally, but when he _did…_

 _He seemed lost. Alone._ That was what the Jedi had said about what Grogu’s life was like before Din found him. Grogu never really talked about it himself, but little details slipped out occasionally. It was enough for Din to guess at how seeing those tally marks must have felt.

Din carefully moved Grogu from his shoulder to a hold that could _technically_ count as a hug without being too obvious about it. _I'm right here,_ he thought, just in case Grogu was listening. _You're okay._

Grogu gripped Din's fingers and didn't say anything.

" _C'mon!_ " Rey thumped the computer, jarring Din from his thoughts. The screen flickered, then stabilized. " _Okay._ That's her, right?"

The ship was a slightly newer model, but ships like the Crest I didn’t change much in between models. Biggest difference he could tell was that this one had been designed for troop movement and had more seats. The engine would be more or less the same. “That’s her,” Din confirmed.

“Good, then you’ll be fine with those other parts. It’s, uhm…” She pointed to the list, still seemingly unaware of the moment Grogu had just had, or how disconcerting her wall of tally marks would seem to an outsider. “…those right there. That’s the only one missing.”

“And you’re _sure_ this won’t blow up the ship?”

“I mean, it will if you use try to use it _forever._ That’s why I asked how far you were going.”

Din gave the plans a careful once-over. It looked like she was right…worst case scenario, he could always see if Plutt had the actual part now and grab the alternative if he didn’t.

Of course, that gave him less time to decide what to do about…

“What’s the furthest you’ve gone trying to catch someone?” Rey asked suddenly. She was trying to sound casual, but most kids her age weren’t very good at that. She might’ve had a leg up, being a decent haggler and all, but that only got her so far.

“I’ve had people go to other planets to avoid me,” Din said. “Usually I have a tracking fob to start. You think your parents might have left the planet?”

Rey looked startled, perhaps not expecting him to just cut to the chase. “…I don’t know,” she said finally. “Maybe. They were on a ship when they left. I remember that.”

That complicated things. He would have a hard time finding them if they had _stayed_ on the planet. Din tried to pick his next words carefully, but Rey started speaking before he could: “It’s just, I’ve been helping, and I know we were trading for meal packs but I’ve only eaten part of one so I can give you the rest back if…”

 _Oh_. That’s where this was going. “Hey, don’t worry about that right now. I appreciate all the help, I really do. And I think we can work something out.”

She looked surprised, then hopeful, then dubious, all in the span of a few seconds. He was used to that expression, too; pretty much every Foundling wore it at one point or another. He remembered how it felt, being unsure if this was _real_ , if help had actually come, if you were really safe. Rey had more reasons not to trust him on top of that. You probably couldn't trust anyone out here. “Really?”

“Really. You shouldn’t be alone out here. Remember how I told you about the _resol’nare?_ The part about clan? That’s your family. I think it’s important for everyone, so if I can help you find yours…”

 _Until it comes of age or is reunited with its kind._ He wasn't sure completing that sentence was appropriate, not just yet, but it _was_ the Creed he had taken. A promise he'd made to himself, his people, and any Foundling that ended up in his care. And he could _safely_ say he considered her under his care.

"I may have to drop off my target first, though. I don't want to hand him over with hibernation sickness." Not that hibernation sickness was _lethal_ , but it wasn't a good look, and the client might still want a quarry with working eyes. "But once that's done, we can work on finding your parents."

Rey still looked doubtful. She was probably trying to figure out what the catch was. Din couldn't blame her for that. He also knew he had no way of convincing her there wasn't one, so he didn't try. Instead he straightened up as best he could in the small space and said, "I'm going to drop off Grogu to watch the ship, and then I'll go see Plutt. You can come with, tell me everything you know?"

"...okay."

She still felt skeptical. He could feel her gaze on him as they walked back to the ship. He knew what she must be thinking—that people weren’t this kind, and especially not people like him.

He didn’t judge her. She had every reason to doubt his intentions, and he knew how people felt about men like him.

Din just hoped she’d come to trust him soon. Regardless of how this went, it would make things a lot easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost forgot, but Mando translations:
> 
> > chakaar - general term of abuse but can specifically mean corpse robber, petty criminal, or thief  
> > beroya - bounty hunter


	5. Chapter 5

Plutt had the part.

He wasn't _thrilled_ that Din had worked out other, cheaper methods of fixing up the ship, but he didn't try to talk Din out of it, either. Must've figured a sale was a sale and the extra credits weren't worth the possibility of a beskar spear through the eye. (Not that Din _would_ , but he was willing to let people think he would if it made things go a little faster.)

Din enlisted Rey again to help with installation, but mostly to ask her questions about her parents. He tried to keep the questions as short and painless as possible: _Do you know their full names, how much do you remember about places you went before, did they ever talk about going anywhere?_ He wasn't surprised that she didn't remember much. It had been a few years, and between the trauma of them leaving her and the fact that memories from that age tended to fade quickly…

She didn't know their full names. She didn't even know her own family name, though it was possible she'd never had one. She had faint memories of them hopping from place to place, traveling with other scavenger caravans, basically going wherever the work was. She thought she remembered talk of leaving the planet, of _things being better one day_ , but nothing concrete. She didn't know if they had the means to leave when they left her. By the end of the conversation, Din figured his worst case scenario assumptions—that they were actively uncaring or in some kind of trouble—probably still held water. _Best_ case scenario, they really were trying to better themselves for their kid, but something had gone wrong. Could be they'd found themselves in a worse hole than before. Could be they were dead.

Life was harsh on Jakku.

"How much do you think Plutt knows about them?" Din asked as they stopped for a water break. "I know he hasn't told you much, but do you think he knows something and just won't say?"

Rey stopped to think about it. "I don't know? Most of the time, I can tell when people are lying, but with Plutt, everything feels like a lie. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know the type." There were plenty of people like that in the galaxy. Usually it was an act—pretend you hold all the cards, and people will either believe everything you tell them or doubt everything you tell them, depending on how gullible they were. "Think he might be willing to talk to me?"

She made a face. "He might get mad. He's got people who work for him. They could start a fight."

"Do you know anything about _them?_ Are they mercenaries? Ex-military?"

"I know one used to be a scavenger. He's just big and strong so Plutt made him part of the guard. I don’t know about the rest, though."

If they were all like that, Din could probably take them. He didn't want to be _too_ confident, but typically, if you put a Mandalorian up against guys like that, well...them having more numbers _might_ make it a fair fight for them. _Might._

"Just let me handle it," he said out loud. "There is one thing…"

He saw Rey's face fall. To her credit, she recovered quickly, but Din knew that look. The _I knew it was too good to be true_ expression. "What thing?" she asked.

Din tilted his helmet towards the ship. "My last bounty. I should drop him off before I take your job. I don't want him stuck in carbonite too long." He'd hoped referring to the arrangement as a _job_ would reassure her that he wasn't bailing on her, but from how guarded she still looked, it didn't work. "It won't take too long. Just a few planets over, fix up the Crest, and then right back here."

"...yeah."

She didn't believe him. He couldn't blame her for that. Being abandoned by your own parents probably made it hard to trust anyone. Even if he'd been nice to her up until then.

Fortunately, he did have _one_ thing that might help.

"Do you know what a contract is?"

“Kinda. It’s like…when you take a job and you write down what you’re going to do?”

“Right, so that you can’t go back on your word. If we’re going to work together, I think it’s only fair we have one, right?” Not that he _would_ go back on his word, especially not with this, but it might make her feel safer about things. “I have standard hunt contracts already written up. I can explain what they mean and we’ll both sign.”

Rey still seemed dubious, and more so when she got her first look at the thing. Din liked to keep things simple, but even _simple_ in the world of contracts was a bit much for a ten year old kid who struggled with reading. Fortunately, he’d had more than a few clients who needed it simplified to that level, so walking her through everything was easy. "So...this means you'll come back?" Rey said.

"It does." He would've even without the contract, but now was not the time for wounded pride. This was for her, not him. “It’s a working partnership. Not something I go back on.” He wouldn’t go so far as to say that staying true to your word was the secret seventh tenant of the _resol’nare_ , but it was part of his professional honor—the only thing he took almost as seriously as his obligations as a Mandalorian or a father.

Rey still looked dubious, but less so. “What parts do I sign?” she asked.

Legally, he was pretty sure the contract wasn’t binding, but _legally_ she shouldn’t have been hauling scrap at age ten and abandoned by her parents. At least this dubiously legal move gave her some control over what was happening in her life. And it was almost worth it to see the listed payment filled in. That was the lowest payment he’d ever received for a bounty. _I’ll definitely get grief back home._ Worth it, though. “So, we’re squared,” Din said. “Once I’m done with this job, you’ll have my full attention.”

Din didn’t have to be a Force user to tell that she was still nervous about it. It was written all over her body language—the hunch of her shoulders, the way she wasn’t looking directly at him, the way she was holding on to her copy of the contract so tightly the flimsy was starting to crinkle. But, after a second, she took a deep breath and looked up at him. “Is there anything I should do until you get back?” she asked.

“Ask around about your parents if you think it’s safe. Any leads you can get will make things easier for the both of us. And just…" What was a good way to put this? "Don't get into too much trouble, okay?"

Rey hesitated, then smiled slightly. "Yeah, okay."

She was withdrawn for a while, long enough that Din was worried he'd shattered any confidence she might've had in him. Contract or not, this could have been too much to ask. At some point, though, when he turned around to ask her a question about nearby settlements, he saw Grogu sitting next to her, speaking quietly in that halting speech pattern. Rey listened attentively, her face wary but open to whatever he was saying. Din was curious, but forced himself not to eavesdrop. Wouldn't be polite. Especially not when he could ask later, which, of course, he did.

"Where's her head at, do you think?" he asked that night, when it was just the two of them again in the cockpit.

"Worried." Grogu stared out the viewport as he spoke. It was a clear night, full moon; nothing but stars and sand as far as Din could see. It was almost pretty at night. "Lonely. Told her we'd come back. You always do."

The words felt like a compliment more than a statement of fact. Din ducked his head and smiled. "You think she bought it?"

"A little. But...she's scared." He didn't have to elaborate; Din knew what that fear really was. That clawing lack of certainty or safety that tainted everything in a person's life. Sometimes he didn't think it ever really went away. You just slept with a knife and learned to push through it when you had to. "Buir?"

"Yeah, kid?"

There was a pause. When Din looked Grogu's way, he was staring out the window again. There was something pensive about his body language--the droop of his ears, the intensity of his stare. "Grog'ika?" Din asked, suddenly wary.

When the response came, it was in his head, not out loud: _Can we call Master Luke later?_

"Yeah. Of course. Why? Everything okay?"

This time, the reply didn't come with words. It was a shared feeling: a quiet sense of dread, like walking through a predator-rich area and feeling their eyes on you. Only catching brief glimpses of something in the darkness, but not being able to tell if it was all in your head. Din couldn't tell to what extent the feeling was based in reality, and assumed that was because Grogu couldn't, either. Apparently it was hard to tell with Force-users. Could be a few bad dreams and the misplaced anxiety of a kid who'd already been through too much. Could be something actually out there.

He wanted to believe it was the former, but by now, Din wasn't willing to risk it wasn't the latter. And even if it were the former, he wasn't going to deny his child comfort.

"We'll call him tomorrow," Din said. "Okay?"

"Okay."

Grogu clung to Din's cloak a little more tightly that night. Din didn't point it out. He just held him close, and hoped his presence was enough comfort until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really a full word translation, but shortening a name and adding 'ika to the end is a common way of showing affection for someone. Or condescension, but in this case it's affection.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr as screechthemighty were the big theme is Warrior Dads With Magic Sons, also sometimes Apex Legends (spoilers: it's mostly Mirage).


End file.
